


The Ties That Bind

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-23
Updated: 2005-12-23
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: I finally finished this the other night. I don't know why it took me so long, it's only 1600 words or so, but there you go. Hopefully this plot bunny is out of my system now. I kinda finished it and posted it because I noticed people complaining about "NaNoWriMo eating their fandom." Well, I haven't been eaten (yet), and this is my way of proving it. As always, I'm a feedback whore. Thankyou, come again.





	The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Graphic m/m sex, threesome, light bondage, ties, sweat and stubble.  


* * *

Three men arrive in the bar that night.  
  
The first man is tall and lanky. His red hair seems a reflection of the candle flame, as he shakes the water off his threadbare cloak and moves to a quiet corner booth.  
  
The second man floos in, shaking rain off his silk cloak. His mouth twists into a sneer as he takes a seat opposite the first.  
  
The tension between the two men hums in the air, like a plucked string. No words are spoken across the table.  
  
The third man arrives with a wave to his companions, and wet hair plastered to his scalp.  
  
He leans on the end of the table, and grins endearingly – the kind of grin that can melt wax, and stop clocks - at the other two men.  
  
One returns his grin, lopsidedly, but every bit as wide. The other raises an eyebrow and stands.  
  
Sculling back the glass of firewhiskey that sits on the table in front of the blond, the brunet grabs the red head’s hand. Pulling him across the floor towards the door, a faint stream of half-voiced protests fall from the other man’s lips. The blond follows, ostentatiously brushing non-existent dust off his cloak.  
  
The three reach the door together, and shove through roughly. Still in silence, they apparate, leaving behind an empty street with the sound of their passage reverberating slightly in the still air.  
  
-//-  
  
Arriving in the entry hall, the blond purses his lips. The ceiling is high, and a draught blows through the room. The brunet shivers, and the redhead pulls him roughly under his arm. The other man sniffs disdainfully.  
  
He leads the way, stalking through the deserted house. The other two men glance around them nervously, but can see nothing except furniture covered in dusty sheets.  
  
A flash of silver from the gloomy depths of one room reminds the brunet of nothing so much as a fish jumping from a stream. He pauses in an attempt to get a clearer view of the mirror, but the redhead pulls him inexorably on.  
  
Following the pale head in front, they edge cautiously up an imposing staircase, which sweeps grandly around and down to a marble-floored reception room, but ahead leads only into darkness.  
  
-//-  
  
“Lumos”  
  
It is the first word spoken all night, and illuminates a plain room in the musty darkness of the mansion.  
  
In front, a large feather bed draped in a silk comforter. To either side, miscellaneous other pieces of furniture enshrouded in the anonymity of their protective dustsheets. On the bed sprawls the blond, carefully postured and appearing totally relaxed.  
  
The redhead pauses by the door, looking around uncertainly, but the brunet strolls calmly into the room, beckoning the other man after him. He pushes the nervous redhead onto the bed next to the blonde, and steps back. Eyeing them both closely, the brunet removes his shirt.  
  
He is pale, and the fine trail of dark hair that trails down from his navel is mesmerising to the other men. He teases them, running his fingers through it slowly, the fingertips slipping just under the waistband of his pants. The redhead cannot repress a groan, and moves to stand, but the blond holds him down, his fingers gripping the other man’s upper arms hard enough to leave bruises. Five perfectly formed blue imprints, four fingers and a thumb.  
  
Slowly, a black button is slid through the corresponding buttonhole. The redhead sniggers at the awed expression on the blond’s face, as the brunet frowns at him.  
  
The brunet is now naked, his clothes forgotten on the floor. He moves sinuously to the bed, and drops to his knees before the blond. He stretches a hand to the man’s belt buckle, and the clink of the metal tongue against the frame resonates through the air. The kneeling man unbuttons the blond’s fly. He strokes the nest of damp curls, avoiding touching the stiff erection for now.  
  
The redhead moves to stand once more, but the other two men both glare at him. Looking at the brunet, the blonde inclines his head towards the large trunk at the foot of the bed. A wicked grin lights his face, as, eyes twinkling, the brunet opens the trunk, removing a handful of silk ties. They spill across the bed, a knot of writhing silver and green snakes.  
  
Taking two each, the blond and brunet advance on the redhead. His eyes widen, and he slides away from the pair, until, backed against the headboard, he has nowhere else to go.  
  
Swiftly, he is tied, spreadeagled on the bed. His eyelashes seem to vanish against the creamy pallor of his skin as he looks at the two imploringly. The blond winks at him salaciously. His clothes are removed by the simple mechanism of ripping, and lie in empty puddles.  
  
The brunet slides up the bed to lie next to the redhead, sucking and nibbling on nipples. The blond meanwhile has stripped, and is preparing to take the redhead’s cock in his mouth. At the first touch of his darting tongue, the redhead struggles against his bonds, but the brunet strokes a hand consolingly down his chest, finishing by tousling the blond’s hair. The redhead relaxes into the caresses, his breathing increasing slightly as he strains, trying to get more of his cock into the blond’s mouth. The blond licks the tip teasingly, stroking the pale skin of the inner thighs dotted with freckles.  
  
Sweat beads in droplets across the brunet’s collarbone. The blond abandons his teasing, and slips up the bed to lick each droplet in turn. The salt taste on his tongue is comforting, and he shares it with the brunet. His tongue is pale, pointed pink velvet, and it rubs hungrily against the other man’s.  
  
The brunet reluctantly pulls away from the blond, taking in the hungry glint in the redhead’s eyes. In the dim solitude of the room, the harsh panting of the redhead and the creak of the bed are the only noises. The brunet bends to trace the outline of the redhead’s lips with his tongue. His stubble rubs against the other man’s cheek, the rough freshness evoking memories of stolen kisses in shadowed alcoves at school.  
  
The blond is spreading the brunet wide, oiling him with something in a jar from the bedside cabinet. The redhead can smell almonds and jasmine, odours that intensify as the blond oils the redhead’s nipple with the remaining oil. He takes each nipple into his mouth in turn, stretching them and nipping gently. There is a sharp indrawn breath from the redhead as he struggles not to cry out, muffled as the brunet clamps his hand, palm-down, across the redhead’s mouth. The light stubble grazes the brunet’s fingers tantalisingly, as he rises up and comes down on the redhead’s cock.  
  
Constricting warmth around his cock causes the redhead to attempt to thrust upwards, body tensing and straining against the bonds. His muscles stand out, corded sinew and tendons showing through the sweat-damp skin. The blond nibbles a path down the side of the redhead’s body from his nipples, tracing his way down the other man’s body.  
  
The dual stimulation is almost proving too much for the redhead; his breath is coming is hoarse gasps and his eyes are beginning to roll backwards. The brunet slows the speed, rising tantalisingly slowly, tightening around the redhead’s cock in an irregular rhythm. The blond wraps his pink crushed-velvet tongue around the brunet’s cock, lapping gently, at the same time as he shoves two fingers into the redhead’s mouth. The redhead takes them in eagerly, tasting himself and the brunet on them.  
  
All three men are locked together on the bed, the brunet riding the redhead, the blond sipping at the slight sticky pool at the tip of the brunet’s cock. The brunet stretches a hand out, wrapping it around the blond’s cock. At some unknown signal, the three men begin to move faster, sweat pooling and dripping, the knots of the ties sliding and tightening against the redhead’s wrists and ankles.  
  
The redhead shudders and groans first, a groan that is suppressed by the palm over his mouth. He licks it gently, tasting the sweat, tracing the lines on the palm with his tongue. The brunet follows him, throwing his head back as the blond teases, swallowing it all. When the blond comes a few seconds later into the brunet’s hand, he cries out. The cry stutters into the silence, reverberating and hanging in the still air.  
  
The brunet and the blond ease off the redhead, fingers grappling with tightened knots. The redhead’s eyes widen in sudden fear. Rolling his eyes at his friend’s obvious concern, the brunet grabs his wand from the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He mutters something under his breath, and the silken ties fall away into puddles of harmless silver and green.  
  
The three men coil on the bed, sharing warmth and waiting for the morning to come. The redhead turns to the blond, a question on his lips. Resigned to the inevitability of the question, the blond raises an eyebrow, and the words tumble out of the redhead’s mouth where they have been chained.  
  
“For heaven’s sake, Draco, did you buy all those ties for that reason?”  
  
“The beauty of this is, Ron, that you will never know.”


End file.
